


to feel alive

by saintpyrite



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alcohol, Fake AH Crew, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:15:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27112471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saintpyrite/pseuds/saintpyrite
Summary: up here over the city, Alfredo feels alive and it's even better with Trevor beside him.
Relationships: Trevor Collins/Alfredo Diaz
Kudos: 16





	to feel alive

High up here on the rooftop, it’s quiet and Alfredo can breathe. 

The howling of police sirens and the whipping wind were merely background noise in the grand cacophony that was the city from on high where nothing could touch him. There was a thrill being up this high, lights illuminating the dark down below as if they were stars spread across a black sky. The danger of being perched on the edge, his feet dangling over the side reminding him one wrong move could send him hurtling to his end and the brisk, cold winds that rippled over his skin. It was a sight to behold and it was even better with the burning in his throat and lungs, smoke inhaled and held there for as long as he could before breathing out thick smog, a can of beer off to the side crushed inwards. 

The trance of the city had held his gaze, the scent of his joint in the air but a voice called out to him, pulling him from his own head. Alfredo looked over his shoulder, choosing to give Trevor his full attention as the man came over to the ledge.

“I would like to believe you don’t hate our company so much that you’d think swan diving off the top of the building would be beneficial for your health,” Trevor peered down over the edge, taking a step back before giving Alfredo a smile that was both dangerous and charming. “I’ve found it rather difficult to acquire a man of your calibre that Michael  _ doesn’t _ scare off.” 

Trevor was a fearsome man to behold but as far as Alfredo’s booze-addled vision was concerned, the man might just be the most beautiful thing he had ever seen in his entire life. 

Alfredo picked up his can, shaking it from side to side so the liquid sloshed about inside before using it as a pointer to gesture widely to the sights below them, “I’m just enjoying the sights, Trevor, no swan-diving for me tonight.”

Rising to his feet, Alfredo swayed in his step in a way that would make just about anyone nervous to witness but with lady luck on his side, he managed to stick the landing when he jumped off the ledge to meet Trevor on equal ground. With a coy smile and a slur to his words, he gestured back towards the rooftop ledge, “You should join me sometime, there is nothing more thrilling than taunting death itself.”

He hadn’t missed the way that Trevor had readied himself to reach out for Alfredo in order to catch him, steady him on his feet with a look of pure, unadulterated panic crossing his face. There was something laughable at how he tried to play it off, Trevor reaching forward and adjusting the way Alfredo’s hoodie sat on his shoulders, straightening it out. There was something warm and intimate about the closeness, looking down to see Trevor brush off an imaginary piece of lint from his jacket and Alfredo relished in it.

“As long as we don’t have to sit on the edge, I would happily join you in your sightseeing,” Trevor smiled up at Alfredo, wisps of white curling from his mouth as the cold front chilled them to their bones in a gust of wind. “I think you’re insane to be drinking out here in the cold when the penthouse is right there.”

Alfredo led Trevor back to the ledge of the penthouse, taking a can from the large box crate he had left perched on top of the wall and passing it along to Trevor while Alfredo took one for himself. Up close, he was certain Trevor would be able to see the dark red blush against his pale skin even in the low light of the roof as the harsh cold sent goosebumps running up his arms or maybe it was the way his hand brushed against Trevor’s own when he gave him the can, Trevor’s warmth was ethereal up this high. 

They were a terrible pair, were they not?

It was such a subtle gesture, something anybody else would miss but they _ knew _ one another so well that these touches, these looks they shared were so layered. No guise of professionalism between the pair could hide how they felt about one another. Alfredo emptied the rest of the White Claw, downing it and crushing the can to throw it over the side with a wild grin before he placed his hand over Trevor’s own hand. 

This encouraged a wildness that Trevor rarely indulged in, the man drinking down his own can and crushing it. Following Alfredo's example, Trevor threw the can over the side of the building and laughed,  _ god _ , his laugh was so beautiful against the whistle of the winter wind and Alfredo had never heard anything so devastatingly gorgeous in his life.

This was the kind of night that made Alfredo feel  _ alive _ ; fun dizziness from the alcohol, the calm and hazy fog from the weed, the city below like stars on a black sky and close by his side, Trevor nestled against him laughing. This was what it was like to be alive. 


End file.
